Dreams of the Ring
by Lucinda
Summary: set in season 4 - Anya has a spell to let Buffy, Cordelia, & Willow dream themselves into the Lord of the Rings. Now Complete.
1. prolog

Author: Lucinda   
  
rating: pg will have higher rating in later parts.   
  
main characters (in prolog): Anya, Buffy, Cordelia, Willow   
  
disclaimer: I own nobody from BtVS, and nobody from Lord of the Rings (the story or the actors)   
  
distribution: If you want it, ask. I'll probably say yes.   
  
set in Season 4, but pretending that Fellowship of the Ring & Two Towers were/are out on video/dvd (so, semi-AU, right?)   
  
They'd fought against the Initiative, and managed to destroy ADAM, although it had been a close matter. There had been smoke that they seriously hoped hadn't contained anything poisonous, and explosions, and the collapse of the underground complex used by the Initiative, along with the attempted escape or evacuation of the soldiers and many of the demons and vampires held captive. Perhaps they should be concerned about what the escaped demons might try to do, or what sort of contingency plan the soldiers might have.   
  
But they were all exhausted. Buffy, Anya, even Willow felt as if their muscles were skin covered wet rags, layered over bones of lead. Their eyes stung from the smoke, and the last thing any of them wanted to consider was Slaying of any sort. Or any sort of complicated planning.   
  
Cordelia's unexpected presence at Buffy's house gave the weary women the impression that evil had been over active all over, especially when Cordelia had simply winced when asked how things had been going.   
  
"I just want to collapse into a chair and have an exhausted girls night." Cordelia's words held a definite wistful note. "I don't want to talk about work, or fighting evil, or taxes, or money."   
  
"What does that leave?" Anya sounded tired and curious.   
  
Buffy gave a tired grin. "Traditionally, we watch movies with cute guys and eat junk food. And trust me, I have just the movies. Lord of the Rings... have you seen those guys? Hot doesn't cover it."   
  
"Girls movie night?" Cordelia had a small smile. "You mean with ice cream and popcorn? Oh, count me in."   
  
"Wait, Lord of the Rings... is that the one with the cute blond guy with the funny pointed ears?" Anya's question produced stunned looks of astonishment.   
  
Willow spoke slowly, gently as if to diffuse possible tension or violence. "Yes, the cute blond archer with the pointed ears... that's Legolas, he's an elf. They're based on a trilogy of books by a guy named Tolkein. Any of this sound familiar? If not, just go along with it and watch the movies. Otherwise, Buffy will start in on why you simply must know who Orlando Bloom and Viggo Mortensen are."   
  
Anya gave a small sigh, and said no more dangerous words. Perhaps she was simply too tired to have Buffy wax passionate about random actors. Perhaps she had decided to watch the movies and try to figure out the big deal for herself.   
  
Buffy was grinning like a madwoman as she reverently placed the first disc into the DVD player, a whispered chant of 'legolaslegolaslegolas' emerging from her lips.   
  
The four settled back with popcorn and assorted drinks, allowing themselves to be transported into the epic tale of Frodo and the One Ring, awed by the scenery, and impressed by the fight scenes and the cute guys.   
  
"Wow... I get it now. Where's the third one? I want to see what happens next?" Anya's voice held a mixture of excitement and exhaustion.   
  
"Can't. It hasn't been finished yet. We have to wait another month before it's out in the theatres." Willow's voice held just a little bit of a pout.   
  
"Am I the only one that's ever wanted to be able to just... jump into a movie and grab the cute guy?" Buffy's voice was thoughtful.   
  
"Nope. Got another one right here... he was just yummy. Hello salty goodness..." Cordelia's voice was wistful, as if she was imagining what she would do if she did seize the guy.   
  
Anya shifted a little in her seat. "That's not a new idea... pretty common, although it used to be songs and legends." Her words were interrupted by a huge yawn. "But I know someone... who can come close."   
  
"How close? Close enough to feel their sexy sweat?" Cordelia's voice was interested, but slightly cautious as she remembered the amount of trouble the last wish she'd made near Anya had caused.   
  
"There's a short incantation, and some fragrant oils... and then you go to sleep. You have a dream, and in the dream, you've put yourself into the story, however you wanted. It all feels like it's really happening, and you can change how things turn out." Anya sounded enthusiastic.   
  
Willow frowned slightly. "You said it feels real... how real is it? I mean, if you get hurt in the dream, are you hurt in reality? Can you get really injured from this?"   
  
"It's not that real. You can't die from things that happen in the dream, no more than you can from a normal nightmare if things go bad. But it would be very vivid, very intense." Anya sought to reassure Willow.   
  
"But we could see them, touch them, and you know, everything?" Buffy's voice was eager, and her eyes bright with something part way between hope and lust.   
  
"Close enough to feel like you're touching them. Should I summon my friend and get the incantation?" Anya had a smile that reminded Willow of the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland.   
  
"Yes!" Buffy and Cordelia's voices blended together on the word, their resolve firmly set.   
  
end prolog. 


	2. Buffy's Dream

Buffy's Dream  
  
Author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg 13   
  
main characters: Buffy, Legolas  
  
disclaimer: I own nobody from BtVS, and nobody from Lord of the Rings  
  
distribution: If you want it, ask. I'll probably say yes.  
  
summary: Anya found a spell to allow Buffy, Cordelia & Willow dream themselves into the movie 'Lord of the Rings'. As this is a dream (Buffy's Dream in specific) things will not follow the movie exactly, and there will be significant deviations.  
  
Buffy knew that she was dreaming. She knew that her real life was in Sunnydale, an endless round of battles and hunts searching out demons and vampires to kill them. Endless nights of worry and danger. But why return to that now? This was so much nicer...  
  
Now, she was the only daughter of the Steward of Gondor, the darling younger sister of Boromir and Faramir. She was a bit pampered, provided with elegant gowns and sparkling jewels to wear. Despite this, her father had insisted that she receive the training of a warrior as well as her brothers. No child of the family of Stewards, the ones who had maintained and guided the White City of Gondor since the fall of the line of Isildur, would be a helpless maiden.  
  
She had a pair of loving elder brothers and a father who wanted her to be happy. A city that adored her and considered her to be their darling golden girl. She was the closest that Gondor had to a princess, and it was good.  
  
"Buffaemir? You need to pack some things. Father's been closeted with the Council all day... It seems he's still having that same dream." Her brother Boromir stood in the doorway.  
  
She frowned, hating her full name. "Bor... you know I'd rather be called Buffy. What does the council have to do with me?"  
  
"Because, little sister, he's sending you and I to Rivendell to ask for enlightenment from the elves." Her brother had a bit of a smile in his hazel eyes, so much like her own.  
  
"Rivendell? We get to go see elves? Oh, that's just delightful! I'd better start packing... And the same goes for you! Don't you even think about just trailing around in those old worn things, you are the son of the Steward of Gondor! You'd best dress like it!" She was just delighted. Her life was taking an interesting new direction.  
  
The journey to Rivendell seemed to just fly by, in a succession of gloriously golden sunny days, with just enough of a cool breeze to keep things pleasant. Breathtaking hills and rolling meadows gave way to an impressive forrest that felt aware in a way that the hills she was used to did not. It was as if the trees had eyes and were watching them all.  
  
The elven city was amazing. It was unlike anything that she'd ever seen before, and all Buffy could do was look around with wide eyed wonder. Elegant buildings with graceful twisting decor in elaborate spirals and curls, trees and shrubs in the middle of the town, and all against the most amazing waterfall... It was just the sort of impossibly gorgeous place that she'd expected elves to live in.  
  
But then she saw the elves. They were the perfect people to dwell in such a gloriously beautiful city. They were tallish, with a slender grace and such intensely perfect beauty that it made her feel almost plain, and clumsy. Until she saw HIM. He was an elf, of course, but not one of the shadow haired perfect elves of Rivendell. No, his hair was as golden as the sunlight, and his skin a warmer tone than the others, almost a golden bronze. He was absolutely perfect looking, and it turned out that he was Legolas of Mirkwood.  
  
She spent some time exploring Rivendale while her brother spoke to Lord Elrond, who was handsome if a bit overly stuffy. She kept catching glimpses of Legolas, and it was almost as if he was watching her, or maybe following her to keep track of her. Sort of sweet actually. He would flash this intense elven grin at her before vanishing into the trees, something that she couldn't quite figure out how he managed to do.  
  
After nearly a week, there was a final assembly, attended by not only herself and her brother Boromir, but some of the elves, a gathering of dwarves, this lurking man with a dark beard, an old wizard with a huge hat, and most puzzlingly, a pair of short, rounded people with hairy feet. There was a gleaming golden ring laid on a dark stone pedestal, catching the sunshine and glinting in such a way that she knew immediately that it was of the purest gold.  
  
It turned out that the ring was a very very powerful magical artifact created by the evil Sauron, once a mortal warlord but now some sort of disembodied spirit. After a while while her brother tried to convince the assembly that the ring could be used against Sauron, the vote was taken and it was decided that the ring needed to be destroyed. It wasn't until one of the dwarves had shattered this really nice looking axe on the ring that the old wizard decided to mention that the ring could only be destroyed by tossing it into the depths of this really big, ominous volcano in the heart of Mordor, the home of Sauron.  
  
Everyone was arguing again, and Buffy had the most bizarre impression that the ring was aware of the fighting. Aware and somehow... amused. But it was just a pretty bit of metal, right? How could a ring be aware, or amused?  
  
"I will take it." A soft voice somehow cut through the argument.  
  
And everything seemed to sort itself out, under the nearly undetectable guidance of Elrond and the old wizard, Gandall or Gandalf or something. There would be a small group to travel swiftly to Mount Doom and destroy the ring. Herself and Boromir along with that weird Ranger guy, Legolas the yummy looking sunshine elf with a bow, one of the dwarves, Gandalf, and a group of the little people of the furry feet. Hobbits. They would be the Fellowship of the ring. The future of the world depended on them.  
  
end part 1.  
  
They traveled through more country-side, although now there was rain. And since they were walking, there were blisters on her feet as well. But the trip... well, it went. The mountains were horribly cold, with the most annoying wind. The best that she could say about the trip was that she got to spend so much time with Legolas. Boromir kept trying to keep them apart, but she'd seen the way Legolas would watch her, with this sort of half smile and his eyes all soft like looking over a meadow after the rain.  
  
The mines of Moira... well, at first it was dark, and sort of damp and gave her this major creepy feeling. Then they found the bodies, and the swarm of goblins, and oh my God, that bullfrog thing was horrifyingly, mind numbingly terrifying. And it killed Gandalf. She wasn't a bit fuzzy on their escape, but she was sure that Legolas had pulled her along, one hand holding hers, his eyes filled with worry and tenderness. Strider the cranky ranger wouldn't even let them stop and mourn for Gandalf. Well, maybe he did have a point about the evil minions following them, but still...  
  
There was a down side to the whole world saving adventure thing. People died, and then they were gone. It hurt, and felt rather familiar...  
  
They had no choice but to continue onwards. Without Gandalf, their fearless leader who knew where everything was. It was even more awkward when they had to explain to the powerful elf Queen Galadriel that Gandalf was dead. She just seemed so... it was like part of the light that made her all shiny and glowy just went out. There was a brief stay to rest, to reprovision... she had no idea how the hobbits could possibly eat so much! Each of them ate as much as herself, her brother, and Legolas combined! No wonder they were sort of round in the middle.  
  
When they left the woods of Lothlorien, they were in these cute little white boats, well supplied by Galadriel and her people. They'd repaired their clothing, really cleaned and sharpened their weapons, and resuplied them with food, lights, and all sorts of other little goodies to make traveling a bit less uncomfortable. Things were seeming pleasant again, with the clear water of the river, the nice trees to either side... But why did she have such a creepy feeling of foreboding? Why was she so certain that there was something bad about to happen?  
  
She was talking to Legolas, asking him to tell her all about his home in Mirkwood when they heard it. Swords clashing, and this dull roaring noise... Then the Horn of Gondor sounded! Alarmed, they went to deal with the problem, discovering her brother surrounded by a horde of orcs, sword flashing as he desperately fought. Legolas immediately pulled his bow and began shooting the orcs, while Buffy drew her sword and leapt into the fray. There were so many orcs, and they were so ugly... thy sort of reminded her of vampires. But they were easy enough to kill individually. The complication was that they weren't here individually, they were here as part of a huge group, easily thirty strong, maybe more.  
  
Finally, the orcs stopped coming. Her brother had collapsed in the clearing, and arrow protruding from his chest. Buffy raced over, certain that he was dead, terrified that they hadn't made it in time to save him...  
  
It turned out that she was half right. They'd made it in time to save her brother's life, although he was in very bad shape. Unfortunately, the hobbits were gone. Apparently, her brother had been trying to keep the orcs from kidnapping, hobbit-napping? Merry and Pippin. He claimed not to know where Sam and Frodo were, but there had been something in his eyes when he'd said it, this dark guilty flicker...  
  
The only thing to do was to chase after the orcs. After all, they'd taken the hobbits, and could only mean something horribly bad for them. So, they set forth, chasing the orcs towards Rohan. Things were a bit harder with Boromir injured the way he was, but they would manage. They had to manage, they were Pippin and Merry's only hope.  
  
It was a long grueling run with far to little food or rest, but they followed the orcs into Rohan, gaining slowly, drawing closer even as they wondered how the orcs could be traveling so swiftly. The only possible answer was the evil magic of their foul master Sauron.  
  
But when they were surrounded and first threatened then greeted by a large force of Rohirrim cavalry, their hopes were crushed. The Rohirrim had met the orcs, slaughtered every living thing among them. It wasn't until she saw the look of blank panic on Striders face that it occurred to her that sometimes, odd things can happen, especially under cover of darkness.  
  
"Are you sure that you didn't see two very small round people?" Her voice trembled a bit. Had they come all this way to loose them to their maybe-allies?  
  
So, they'd accepted some horses from the cavalry, and gone to investigate, Strider determined not to give up his last shred of hope. Maybe he felt that if he could help save the hobbits, he could win the hand of that Arwen elf-maiden, the one whose father seemed so disapproving of Strider. But he'd turned out to be right, the hobbits had escaped, fleeing into the scary old forrest, the one that even unsettled Legolas.  
  
The one that had Gandalf inside, wearing blindingly white robes and seeming a bit off. Like there was something a bit shaken in his mind. But, dying will do that to a person...  
  
They had gone to the city of the Rohan, and met the most incredibly old and pitiful looking man, the king. He looked like he'd been king since his smoke-stained old hall had been built... Until Gandalf did this weird thing, talking to someone named Sorry-man, although she'd been sure the King was something like The-Old-Man. Some nice food and a night's sleep in real beds, and they were on their way to a hidden impregnable fortress, certain to be attacked by the legions of orcs commanded by the bad guys. Life was so... fun these days.  
  
end part 2.  
  
Of course, Helms Deep did look pretty impressive, and rather impossible to capture. But there was a huge army of orcs, and this massive siege that destroyed the walls, and people dying everywhere... She definitely hated orcs. With a fiery passion.  
  
After the cavalry had arrived, literally, in this case, saving the day, they had gone off following Gandalf towards Isengard, and the trees were really freaky. Especially since there hadn't been trees there on the way into Helms Deep. They found Isengard, surrounded by this soggy, ruined disaster of a lawn... and Merry and Pippen were there, safe and cheerful, with a nice hot meal. And there was much rejoicing.  
  
Then, they'd heard terrible news, that Gondor was besieged by Wraiths and orcs, and had gathered a force to go rescue her city, her home. The-Old-Man had insisted on sending men to help.  
  
Being the heroes that they were, they were gradually gaining the upper hand, weakening the orcish army when for no reason that they could ever figure out, the Wraiths just... fell apart, their nasty flying mounts went crazy, taking out large swaths of the orcs before being killed, and the Gondor-Rohan forces routed the remaining orcs. They had won, Gondor was safe. Strider the overly brooding turned out to really be Aragorn, the long lost Heir to the Throne of Gondor, and was crowned King with the enchanting Arwen as his queen, a pair of star-crossed lovers getting their happy ending. Almost like...  
  
Except that the city seemed almost too tame after everything. After all of those adventures, the exhilarating victories, the breath taking scenery. And Legolas, who had been getting closer and closer, spending a lot of his time near her, not so much speaking, but... there. Lurking protectively, watching her with that incredible smile...  
  
She retreated to one of the high towers, looking out over the country. But there was someone else in the tower, a person that she would know anywhere. "Legolas... How good to see you."  
  
He turned, smiling at her with so much pleasure at seeing her that she almost couldn't breath. "Buffy... it is good to see you."  
  
"Are you looking for anywhere in particular, or just, you know, looking?" She moved to stand beside him, the hem of her amber velvet gown brushing against his boots.  
  
He leaned against the window sill, his head peeking out past the walls. "I was mostly thinking. This... this is home for you, isn't it? The place where you fit, where your family belongs. How could someone ask you to leave it?"  
  
Hope began to flutter inside of her. "Nobody has asked me... yet. But while it is my home... maybe it's not where I'm supposed to be for the rest of my life."  
  
"Perhaps somewhere with trees? Or... traveling? You've never seen Mirkwood... There are so many places that I'd like to show you, sweet Buffy." He was looking at her now, his eyes full of intensity.  
  
She reached out, her hand cupping against his cheek. "Are you asking? Do you want me to go away with you, to the forrest of Mirkwood?"  
  
He leaned forward, his lips brushing over hers, causing her whole body to warm and tingle. "Come away with me and be my love."  
  
"oh... I think that would be lovely." She could hardly believe it. He was just so... and he wanted her to stay with him. Forever.  
  
What else could she do but accept? There was a fabulously delightful and elegant wedding ceremony, and a feast. Then, she and Legolas set off, to travel, to see the world, and to enjoy each other. Passionately.  
  
The story even had the perfect ending: 'And the lived happily ever after'.  
  
end part 3. End Buffy's Dream. 


	3. Willow's Dream

Willow's Dream  
  
Author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg 13   
  
main characters: Willow, Boromir  
  
disclaimer: I own nobody from BtVS, and nobody from Lord of the Rings  
  
distribution: If you want it, ask. I'll probably say yes.  
  
summary: Anya found a spell to allow Buffy, Cordelia & Willow dream themselves into the movie 'Lord of the Rings'. As this is a dream (Willow's Dream in specific) things will not follow the movie exactly, and there may be significant deviations.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Willow blinked. She'd gone to sleep wondering if it was wise to try Anya's spell, and now... she was laying on the ground. Pretty ground, with soft grass and wildflowers in yellow and red and white, but still ground. As in, not a bed, not in Buffy's house. How in the world had she ended up here? And still in her fuzzy flannel pajamas? But everything felt different, the air smelled so fresh, like trees and grass and flowers... wait, no ocean?  
  
Looking around, she discovered that she was indeed in a strange place. The lovely area that she was on had tall trees to one side, almost ominously looming trees, actually. To the other side were rolling meadows, grasslands that almost begged to be painted, assuming that the person possessed any artistic ability at all. And a line of mounted figures, approaching her, with spears and flags. Uh-oh.  
  
Maybe she could just leave before they saw her... Carefully, Willow tried to scoot closer to the woods, figuring that she had a better chance to hid in trees than in open grass.  
  
"Halt! Who are you, and what are you doing there?" The first horseman, a tall blond man with a mustache glared down at her, his impression managing to convey utter disapproval and a hint of self-importance.  
  
What was she doing here? Was he crazy? "My name is Willow, and I fail to see how anything I'm doing here concerns you."  
  
"Insolent woman! Do you not know that you address a member of the hand chosen Warriors of Gondor, sent on an very important mission?" He was glaring at her, his face turning red.  
  
"If your mission is so very important, why did you stop to harass me?" Willow glared right back, part of her thinking that this was probably pretty foolish.  
  
"She may have a point. Why are we asking questions of…" The other man was also tall and blond, but he didn't look quite so smugly certain that everyone else was beneath him. Actually, he was sort of cute, in a big, strong, out of her league sort of way. His words trailed off, and he simply looked at her.  
  
He smiled at her, a politely charming gesture of manners, and bowed from his horse, something that impressed Willow. "My apology for Ternear, he is most worried about the proper protocols for our mission. May I ask how you came to this clearing, Lady Willow?"   
  
"Actually… I was a bit confused about that myself. You see, this… is not where I went to sleep. And I'm a bit uncertain where 'here' actually is." She smiled a little bit, hoping that she could figure out a bit more about what was going on… and why she had the nagging feeling that she should already know what had happened.  
  
"Perhaps it was the intervention of some strange magic?" The polite man's voice made it sound like a question, even though they both knew that magic was the only possible option.  
  
"I think so. There are often strange things in my home, the Valley of the Sun." Somehow, it seemed more fitting to describe Sunnydale that way, more fitting for the sort of place she seemed to be standing in.  
  
"Please, allow us to escort you to the home of Elrond, Lord of Rivendale and a King among Elves. My father, the Steward of Gondor, has sent us to go there seeking wisdom, and it may be that he can offer you some assistance as well." He looked so sincere when he spoke.  
  
"Elves… oh my. Yes, I would be delighted to travel with you to meet with Elrond of Rivendale." Willow smiled, feeling something bubble inside her at the way he looked at her. Gondor, Elrond of Rivendale… She was in the Lord of the Rings, just like Anya had promised.  
  
"Boromir, why do you want this… person to travel with us?" The first man, the one that had been called Ternear, leaned over, his words just barely loud enough that Willow could hear them.  
  
"It would be most inhospitable for us to leave here alone in the wilderness when it would be so simple to aid her." Boromir looked most determined, and possibly something else. His gaze flickered over to Willow, resting for a moment before he looked back to Ternear. "And I am the one in charge of this journey, so, I say that she shall go with us. She is unlikely to cause trouble."  
  
So it came to pass that Willow joined the Men of Gondor on their journey to meet with the Elves of Rivendale. She felt a bit less out of place once she'd managed to magic some clothing for herself that was similar to the things worn by the men. She'd been granted the loan of a short sword once she'd proven her ability to use it properly, and now that she could travel in real clothing, and with a weapon, she felt better. Although she was certain that she hadn't been able to ride a horse before…   
  
End part 1.  
  
She found herself sitting alone beside a small fire. None of the men, with the exception of Ternear had been outright rude to her, but she could tell when she wasn't exactly welcome. Conversations would slow if she got too close, and the people would look away, not quite willing to meet her eyes. It was frustrating. She stared at the fire, wondering how long she would be expected to deal with the silent treatment. Perhaps rhe whole way to Rivendale?  
  
"You do not look particularly cheerful, Lady Willow." Boromir's voice came from behind her.  
  
"Nobody seems willing to talk to me, and I'm not quite certain why." Looking up at him, she offered a smile. "You can sit with me if you want to, I promise that I don't bite."  
  
"Indeed… perhaps they are intimidated by you. You are comely, and capable, confident enough to travel with a group of strangers, and the idea of magic does not frighten you. None of us have encountered anyone quite like you before, fair Willow." He looked at her with a small smile.  
  
"Yeah... like that happens often."   
  
Her faint sarcasm was met with a snort. "You doubt me? I shall have you know that the line of the Stewards of Gondor do not lie." There was a twinkle in his eye that betrayed the humor of his words.  
  
Willow looked at him, startled. Comely was another word for pretty. Boromir, who was sort of an uncrowned prince, thought that she was pretty? "I'm not that pretty, and maybe I just figured that you and your men were decent people. Even Ternear the cranky. Do his boots possibly pinch his toes?"  
  
He'd laughed, and so a friendship was begun. It was a bit unusual, in part because while she was polite, she gave him none of the special respect that his men showed. He seemed to delight in her whimsical way of looking at things, and often he was seen smiling in her company.  
  
There was speculation, of course, that there might have been a bit more between them than was proper. But none of the men would begrudge Boromir Willow's company, and as they continued towards Rivendale, they began to be far more accepting of her. Her good cheer was never seen to fail, and she was perfectly willing to assist with the needed tasks at the campsites.  
  
On Willow's part, she was quite certain that she'd developed a crush on Boromir. Well, they'd call it 'taken a fancy' here, but the basic meaning was the same. She had feelings for him – mushy, sweet, wildly unlikely ideas and hopes and dreams. She couldn't tell him about it. Apart from the fact that he would be expected to marry someone important, she turned red and made a few vowel noises each time that she tried. Best not ruin the friendship for the sake of the impossible.   
  
"Willow, come here. We're almost to Rivendale, it is not a sight that you should miss." Boromir's voice was brimming with enthusiasm.  
  
"Rivendale? Is it so very different… Ohhh, it's beautiful." Willow could hardly decide where to look first. Rivendale was magnificent, with a glorious waterfall and luxurious trees right in the middle of the city. It didn't look precisely like a city at first, but when she began calculating the size of some of the graceful buildings… It would be a small city in twentieth century California, but for this sort of time, it was large and magnificent.  
  
"Of course it's beautiful, the elvenkind made it. They won't bother making something unless it can be made pretty." Boromir was smiling, eyes sparkling with amusement. He looked nearly perfect in that moment.  
  
Willow sighed, wanting to remember this moment forever. She also knew that anyone overhearing that sigh would assume that it was for the city in front of her, not the man standing in front of the admittedly lovely city. This city would change Boromir, she was certain of it.  
  
Naturally enough, the city held Elves. Tall, graceful people with dark hair and eyes like the ocean at night, the elves were almost too beautiful. She could sit for hours just watching them. But it was Boromir that had a place in her heart. But she delighted in the elven singing, and the music, and the dancing… breathtaking.  
  
"You know that this is but a passing dream, do you not?" The voice of Elrond was slightly curious, but cool. As if he did not welcome any human presence in his lands.  
  
With his words, everything came together for a moment, and she knew that she was dreaming. Smiling, she met his eyes. "But it is a beautiful dream, and your people a glorious nation."   
  
Lord Elrond made an unhappy noise, something similar to a 'harummph' and left her alone.  
  
End part 2.  
  
Boromir had been summoned to a meeting, one that she wasn't supposed to be attending. With a small shrug, Willow meandered through Rivendale, looking at the graceful buildings, the lovely elves. She had a feeling about this meeting, from the corner of her mind that had recognized this for a dream. Rivendale would be just the beginning of their journey. And it would be filled with dangers and travel. Boromir would be going, as would the blond elf, and the little people with the furry feet, and the figure that looked like an old man with a pointy hat.  
  
Willow was waiting as the meeting broke up, a small smile on her face as everyone filtered away from the meeting area. One of the furry toed people, hobbits, had something around his neck, something powerful and evil. Boromir came out, looking worried.  
  
"I'm going with you." She spoke directly to him, not at anyone else. It wasn't a plea, or a request, but a simple statement of fact.  
  
"But it will be dangerous... far from the sort of safety that a lady such as yourself deserves." His protest was accompanied by worried eyes, and a tentative touch of a finger against her cheek.  
  
"But I haven't always been safe, and it's unlikely that I will always be safe in the future. I want to be there, to watch your back." She smiled a bit, his finger still against her cheek.  
  
So the travels began. Orcs and rivers and snowstorms... Yes, it was definitely a dangerous journey. A fiery demon powerful enough to make her teeth hurt attacked them in Moira, and Gandalf battled it, the confrontation causing his shields to slip. His power was almost blinding, stronger than anything that she could remember facing... And he was unquestionably on the side of good. Or maybe that should be GOOD. But he was dragged down into the chasm by the demon thing, a Balrog, and they had to flee, mourning him as one that had died. Something whispered that surely Gandalf would not be killed so easily, but it was drowned out by her worries, fear for Boromir, for all of them as they fled the Goblin archers in the Halls of Moira.  
  
From there, they went to Lothlorien, home of Galadriel and her people. More elves, as fair as Legolas, with shining white homes built up in the trees and hauntingly sad songs floating through the air. Dirges for Gandalf, who had been dragged into the darkness, fallen and presumed dead. It was a good place, a place of healing and rest. It was almost as if the air and music of the woods countered the evil of the ring, pushed back the taint that it tried to spread to everyone around it.  
  
And with the sort of blurring of exhausting travel, they were in a section of woods, spreading out in preparation for the attacking orcs that they knew were drawing near. Willow felt a sudden stabbing pulse of something, evil so strong and dark that it made her head spin and her vision grey. Boromir was in trouble... She began searching for him.  
  
He was there, the dark taint of the ring's power tangled over him as if he'd been caught in a giant spider web. His face was caught in an expression of pain, despair, and need. "I only want to protect my people! We can use that power to fight Sauron!"  
  
Willow felt something like pain rip through her. The ring had taken his desire to help his people and twisted it, used that noble goal to throw fear and chaos into their group. "Boromir..."  
  
Boromir was searching for Frodo, unable to find him, unable to see the small hazy figure on the top of a tall rock. But it hurt to look at him, so Willow didn't. She moved to Boromir's side, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Boromir... the orcs are coming. We need you ready to fight them."  
  
"The orcs? The servants of darkness... You're right, I must be ready to fight them. He turned his back on the place where Frodo crouched, his sword in hand. "I shall not allow them to bring harm while I can offer aid to our party."  
  
And the orcs came forth, pouring from the woods in appaling numbers. Their dark skin mottled in browns and greens, the dark iron armor and blunt ended swords, and the stark white handprints marked over their bodies... They were a terrible and fearful sight. When they saw the Fellowship, less than a dozen in number, they howled, charging towards them, armor clattering and swords raised towards the sky.  
  
When the first black arrow hissed through the air and embedded itself into Boromir's shoulder, Willow felt as if it had struck her. The searing pain, the blurring of tears in her vision... But then the rage boiled up. It pulsed inside her, black and red and seething... With a growl, she hurled raw power at the orc archer, and his bow burst into flames as he fell to the ground in a crumpled heap. Boromir had fallen, and she couldn't tell if the man who'd claimed her heart still lived or if the arrow had taken his life. Tears continued to stream down her face as she charged at the orcs, sword in hand, screaming wordless rage at them.  
  
Legolas shook her out of it at the end, his insistent words and touch like the shadows in a forest pulling her back to her senses. "Willow, the orcs have gone, or are dead. Stop this."  
  
With a choking sob, she turned and moved to Boromir's side. His eyes were open, and he made little gasping noises as he breathed. She reached out, cupping his cheek with her hand, feeling the start of his beard prickling at her palm.  
  
"There is nothing that we can do for him." Aragorn's voice was low, filled with regret and pain.  
  
"My king... I have failed..." Boromir's words were weak, filled with shame and despair.  
  
"No, you are brave and have served Gondor well." Aragorn's words were filled with the intensity of truth, and the pain of someone that was certain they spoke to a dying man.  
  
Willow looked at Boromir, refusing to let him go. She began whispering the words of a healing spell, intended to help with the sort of injuries that came up in the Vale of the Sun. She would make it work for this, failure was not an option. If this failed, she would loose Bormomir, loose the man that she'd come to love. She wasn't about to let that happen. Power flared, and the wound began to shrink, the bleeding coming to a halt as his flesh began to reknit.  
  
"Lady Willow... even with this, he will not be able to continue the journey to Mordor." Legolas spoke softly, clearly not wanting to break her concentration.  
  
"Then I will take him home to Gondor. I will not let him die, not when I care so much..." She sniffled, only now noticing the tears that streamed down her face.  
  
"But the Ring..." Gimli's voice, uncertain of the changes that were even now taking place.  
  
"The rest of you can continue. I think... I think you'll have all the help that you need. But I didn't come here to fight orcs or obsess over a shining loop of evil. I came because Boromir did. Now, he needs to go rest and heal, and I intend to make sure that it happens." She looked at them all, noticing their own injuries. Willow closed her eyes, and whispered a healing spell, sending the magic into them to heal the cuts, ease the bruises, to repair the strain on tendons and nerves.  
  
Aragorn rose to his feet, an odd look on his face. "Then take him back to Gondor, and let him heal. He is a good man, a brave man. The city of my ancestors needs such men as Boromir."  
  
Willow smiled at him, wondering if he intended to be the one to reclaim the throne of Gondor. "I will take very good care of him, Aragorn Isildur's Heir. Not because Gondor needs him, but because I do."  
  
  
  
end part 3.  
  
  
  
The trip to Gondor was another blur to her, one with cool water and shadowy forests. They reached the city, with its white walls gleaming in the sunlight, and as soon as it was discovered that she had Bormir with her, they were taken to the palace. Boromir was placed in a bed, the finest healers in Gondor brought to look over him and fuss at the injury.  
  
"Who is that woman, that she brought him back alone and in such condition?" A man's voice, older, and unhappy.  
  
"That is the Lady Willow, whom we met on the road to Rivendale, my Lord Steward." That was the voice of Ternear. "She would not bring him harm, I can only guess that some terrible misfortune has befallen the Fellowship. She should be commended for bringing him home, not greeted with suspicion for his injury."  
  
"Willow, what happened to him?" Ternear spoke to her, one hand reaching out to touch her wrist.  
  
She looked over, seeing the worry in his eyes. Not worry for her, but for Boromir. "There were orcs... no, not the regular ones, but very big orc... Uruk-Hai. They were taller than you, and broader, more muscles. They bore the mark of a white hand, and they tried to kill us all. Hundreds of them... I almost lost him."  
  
"Is there... something between you and Boromir?" Ternear's eyes were filled with worry.  
  
Willow made a small noise, like a strangled laugh. "I love him. I couldn't bear to see him die. But... I don't know if he sees me as more than a friend. I couldn't let him die if I had a chance to stop it, do you understand?"  
  
"My son has not been known to be a fool, Lady Willow. Perhaps there might be more after he has recovered. I... thank you for his life." The older man again, his features bearing an uncanny resemblance to an older Boromir.  
  
Willow just smiled, hope and doubt warring over that very possibility. "I hope he gets better."  
  
"My father is right." Boromir's voice was weak, but not so broken as when he'd spoken to Aragorn. "I would be a fool to turn from you, my friend, my love. Stay here, with me? In Gondor the White City."  
  
Willow couldn't speak for a moment, a bubble of pure joy in her throat. Instead, she hugged him, feeling the warmth and solidness of him. "Of course, silly. All you had to do was ask."  
  
  
  
end part 4.   
  
End Willow's Dream. 


	4. Cordelia's Dream

Cordelia's Dream  
  
Author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg 13   
  
main characters: Cordelia, Aragorn  
  
disclaimer: I own nobody from BtVS, and nobody from Lord of the Rings  
  
distribution: If you want it, ask. I'll probably say yes.  
  
summary: Anya found a spell to allow Buffy, Cordelia & Willow dream themselves into the movie 'Lord of the Rings'. As this is a dream (Cordelia's Dream in specific) things will not follow the movie exactly, and there will be significant deviations.  
  
It was odd, how aware she was that things had not always been like this. The fluttering feeling that all of this was nothing more than a dream, a dark reflection of reality that would vanish with the dawn. The hope, however feeble, that things in Rohan would get better.  
  
But Cordelen knew better. This was Rohan, and it had been this darkly forbidding city since her uncle's decline had begun. She didn't know how it had happened, he was only a few years older than her mother, but King Theodan looked like an old man. He looked like a withered corpse, barely holding any life in his eyes, and less sense. It wasn't natural, and every time she saw him, it made her shiver.  
  
Her cousins Eowyn and Eomer were the only friends that she had here, and Eowyn kept getting nervous around Grimma, the closest advisor to her uncle the King. He was a creepy little man, all sneaky and quiet and somehow greasy, and he would watch Eowyn. It was just... disturbing. But for today, Grimma was the least of Eowyn's worries. Eodan had been wounded in a boar hunt, and was laying unconscious in his room, his sister tending to him, and praying for his recovery. The healers were not so hopeful.  
  
Cordelen went to bring Eowyn something to eat, and some cool cloths for Eodan's fever. The fever was more likely to kill him now than the wound was... infection, a tiny corner of her awareness whispered. Eowyn was sobbing, her head over her brother's chest, sounds of pure despair. She couldn't even finish the question, already certan of the answer. "Is he..."  
  
She was aware of something moving in the doorway, glancing up to see Grimma scurrying away. "Let's go get a bit of fresh air... the healers... I'll take care of that."  
  
Joining Eowyn on the ramparts, she realized that her cousin was staring at something. A trio of horses were approaching. The lead seemed to be an old man in a gray cloak, and there was another man close behind. The third horse was lagging a bit, and seemed to have two people, one slender person, the other short and stout. Somehow, she felt as if things were going to get better, as improbable as that seemed with the King a withered husk barely holding life and the heir to the land cooling on his deathbed.  
  
But things did change. The old man in the cloak turned out to be Gandalf, a powerful wizard. He cast out some sort of evil thing that was possessing Theodan, and in the resulting mess, Grimma Wormtongue was banished from Rohan. While that was a change and cause for delight, the other major decision was less welcome. The riders, which had a dwarf, an elf - impossibly handsome and arrogant, and a rather striking man called Strider, as well as the wizard had brought terrible news. An army of orcs was headed towards Rohan, intent on obliterating everything in their path. Because of this, Theodan had ordered everyone to evacuate to Helmsdeep.  
  
The trip was long, and exhausting, and they were attacked by orc scouts mounted on these evil hell wolf things. A group of the warriors went to fight them, while the rest of the people were supposed to flee to Helmsdeep, with herself and Eowyn supposed to make certain that everything went as it should. Smoothly, orderly.  
  
It was almost an hour after their arrival that most of the warriors that had fought the orcs arrived. There had been some casualties, and many more were wounded. Strider was not among them. Cordelen felt something like half smothered panic and denial, certain that he couldn't be dead, he had to still be alive, somehow. He was a hero, and heroes always made it, just like Buffy...  
  
Cordelen was there when a single horse walked across the bridge, a figure collapsed on it's back. Not that impressive in terms of a triumphant homecoming, but bonus points for dramatic arrivals. It had to be Strider... and he was wounded. He joined the others in the care of the healers, and Cordelen, like her cousin, made a point of checking on him fairly often. Maybe there was a little bit of an attraction, okay, there was a definite attraction to him. But she was born to one of the highest families of Rohan, it wouldn't do to moon over him like a love-struck fool, especially with an army of impending doom getting closer by the minute.  
  
She wasn't certain if it was a good thing or the most annoying event since her parents death that she was supposed to oversee the healers and emergency medics. It kept her out of the line of fire, but it meant htat her uncle would blame her if anyone decided to go back out and get shot at again while still injured. And of course, by 'anyone', she knew that would mean Strider... And probably close to half of the other guys, as well. The whole martyred hero thing was rather over done around here.  
  
end part 1.  
  
The less that Cordelen could possibly ever say about the horrendous battle, the better. Oh, the army of elves showing up to offer really attractive support with nice uniforms was good. The part where people stopped bickering over who's Grandpa drank more or stole a chicken or seduced Grandma was good, especially since it meant not hearing about gramps and who he did or didn't get down with.  
  
The part where the hugest army of orcs imaginable had gathered outside, intending to obliterate them from existence? Very Bad. Especially the way they'd come so very close to succeeding... But they hadn't. The elven archers, with some help from the Rohan people, had been shooting orcs like crazy, even after the 'impregnable' wall had fallen. Strider and Gimli had held the bridge for a while, long enough for the cavalry to arrive - literally, led by a shining figure that had appeared to be a fragment of the dawn given form. Actually, that had been Gandalf, although she wondered just how much of a difference there really was...  
  
They had been saved. They would live, and Rohan might be able to rebuild. Assuming that Sarumon and his orcs were defeated. Assuming that Sarus, no, that wasn't quite right, but the ancient dead-but-not-decently-gone evil was defeated, again. Assuming quite a lot, actually, but there really wasn't anything else that they could do to shape and direct that future. A portion of the army would go to help defend Gondor, which was the ancestral homeland of Strider, who also turned out to be called Aragorn, the rightful King of Gondor. Yes, that's right; Strider the scruffy yet cute ranger was the rightful King of somewhere. Not a little bit of nowhere that didn't matter, but a fabulous city with an ancient history, and still an impressive political and economic entity. The sort of place that it mattered who ran things.  
  
And she had been watching him, Strider or Aragorn, or Dunnie-whatever that Legolas called him. He was so busy focusing on the right now, on the current crisis that he wasn't thinking ahead. He wasn't thinking about the next crisis, or the hopefully peaceful time after the crisis passed. Which could only mean two things - either he found someone else to help him plan for that, or he would never survive his first year on the throne. Fortunately for him, she knew all about organizing. Not much about being the inspirational leader that people would follow to hell and back, but all about organizing, and scheming politicians. That was why she was going with the army to Gondor.  
  
Someone had to make sure his heroism didn't get him killed.  
  
Of course, traveling with an army was not glamorous, or particularly comfortable, or even fast. But it was the entourage to beat all entourages, as long as she could keep herself in that mindset. Which she could generally manage for a few hours out of the day, when she wasn't caught up in managing things for this army. She was expected to marry some nobleman, to learn how to manage properties and hers and fields when her husband was out at war or patrolling, she needed to know these things. Especially if she managed to marry not a nobleman of Rohan, but the future king of Gondor. She had a few ambitions, maybe, but wasn't it good to have a goal in life?  
  
Her first sight of the city of Gondor wasn't the best in the world. Yes, the white walls sparkled in the light, and rose up towards the sky majestically. But there were places where the stones had toppled, collapsed towers, scorched places, and this sort of feeling that hung over the city, of fear, panic, and despair. IT was a once glorious city besieged by foes that terrified them, an evil that they didn't understand and weren't certain how to defeat. Something about that seemed oddly familiar, as if she'd seen it before... But no, she would focus on how to erase the despair, how to keep everything organized, how to convince people that they could stay, rebuild, and restore the glory of Gondor.  
  
Hey, just because she was a beautiful niece of a King didn't mean that she was going to count on stunning good looks alone to get what she wanted. No, she knew that there were many other beautiful women out there, probably dozens just in Gondor, any of which would love to marry the new King. Well, as soon as they won this war, he would be King, because if they lost, they'd all be dead anyhow. No, if she wanted to marry Aragorn, she'd best start now in showing him why she would be a better Queen than anyone else here. As far as plans went, it might work, and would certainly do her no harm if it didn't. She would still be useful, in a glorious city, and if Strider didn't think that she'd be wonderful, surely she could find someone else.  
  
Naturally, they eventually won. It didn't look very likely for a while, especially not when these horrible Wraiths showed up on flying monsters. One day, there was just this... something, like a ripple through the world, and the Wraiths just fell apart, the dragon things went berserk, attacking the orc armies, who naturally panicked and began to scatter. This allowed the forces of good, the people of Gondor and Rohan, and a few scattered elves and dwarves to slaughter the orc armies. It was horribly messy, and there were casualties, but it was victory. They had won.  
  
All that was left would be tending the wounded, burying the dead, and rebuilding the city, well, rebuilding a lot of places. They'd all been getting a lot of practice with healing and funerals lately.  
  
end part 2.  
  
The people of Gondor were actually a bit appreciative to have someone help organize. Not that they actually said so, but their Steward, the guy who had been the stand in for the King, the position of the real leader of the city for generations, well… He'd been one of the casualties. Of the two sons of that man, one of them had joined the Fellowship, and was either dead or far away being heroic, while the other was an officer in the Navy of Gondor, and had firmly stated that he did not feel ready to even attempt to run the city.  
  
Faramir was actually rather cute. And he was a very good Navy man, with the respect of the common people and of the military. She'd found herself working with him in the rebuilding efforts. He'd been watching her, partly to figure out if she was trustworthy, and partly to make certain that she didn't miss things that would be important for Gondor. There were even a few times when he'd agreed to tell some of the craftsmen and nobles something, because they wouldn't listen to Cordelen of Rohan, something that seemed to amuse Faramir considerably.  
  
He'd figured out her plan. How she'd somehow learned that there was a rightful King of Gondor, and that she would like to become the Queen. Pleasantly, he didn't have any serious objections, and felt that her plan of being useful and beneficial to the city would have more luck than simply being beautiful and noble-born. The more he thought about it, the more he seemed in favor of it. Especially since a King would mean that he didn't have to run the country as Steward.  
  
Neither of them were quite prepared for the triumphant and dramatic return of Aragorn. He didn't come as Strider the Ranger, slipping in among the shadows, or as a weary and wounded soldier. No, he came in the splendor of a King, with the reforged sword, and the blessings of the elves and of Gandalf. This wasn't someone asking if he was welcome, this was a King coming home. Nobody could have tried to deny him in the moment of that return, and the fact that nobody tried it then effectively meant that the moment of opportunity was gone.  
  
And of course, once everyone realized that they had a King, a handsome, heroic, single King, well… That was when the balls and the parties started. Noblemen trying to show off their lovely daughters, Master Craftsmen displaying pretty daughters and nieces and students, banquets and feasts and hunts galore. Cordelen had just sniffed, caught between amusement and indignation that only now did the rest of Gondor figure out what she'd already known. The King needed a bride, especially if they didn't want the royal family to die out.  
  
And Aragorn was looking among the women, talking to them, asking questions. Their King did realize that he needed a wife, needed a family to carry on his family, to follow him on the throne. But he apparently hadn't found the right woman yet, not among the sheltered noblewomen, or the skilled crafters.  
  
Cordelen was walking in the garden when she caught voices. Faramir's she recognized immediately, and then she realized that the other was Aragorn.  
  
"So, you haven't picked a lady yet. No one in all of Gondor that you'd like for a wife?" Traces of amusement colored his words.  
  
"It isn't the same. Before, all I would have needed was a woman that I liked, someone that I could build a home with, be happy with. But now… Everything is different." There was a hint of frustration, and a hint of weariness in his voice.  
  
"Now, you must find someone that can not only be your wife and the mother of your children, but the Queen of your people as well." Faramir sounded calm.  
  
"Yes. I don't simply need a wife, I need a Queen. Someone that can help me guide and protect the people of Gondor, not someone who can smile prettily, make tapestries, and dance gracefully. Not that there's anything wrong with smiling, dancing, or tapestries, but…" Aragorn sighed, and there was a noise, as if he'd sat on a bench. "I don't know enough to run a kingdom on my own. I need people that I can trust to help me. I can trust you with the Navy, but you don't know how to run a kingdom either."  
  
"Why not look for a capable woman first, instead of someone merely lovely?" Faramir's voice sounded calm, entirely reasonable.  
  
"A good suggestion." There was a pause, where the only sounds in the garden were singing birds, and the echoes of distant workers still rebuilding. "What about the Rohan princess? Cordelen, wasn't it? She was at Helmsdeep… Did she stay? I need someone that won't look down on my past as Strider."  
  
"Who do you think has been organizing the city to rebuild? She's stayed, and has been residing here in the castle, in the sunrise tower. She's pretty, has a wonderful smile, dances fairly well… I have no idea if she can make a tapestry. But she has a powerful, influential family, marrying her would help relations with Rohan, and she's definitely capable of helping run a country. She almost seems to be running it now." Faramir sounded like he was trying not to smile.  
  
"Really? Maybe she would make a good Queen…" Aragorn sounded thoughtful.  
  
After perhaps a week, it seemed that his thoughts and her foresight paid off. Aragorn had spoken to her in the gardens, asking if she would be willing to stay here, in Gondor. If she might be willing to share his life and responsibilities, to marry him. He'd even offered her a flower when he asked.  
  
Naturally, she accepted. This was what she'd been hoping would happen for a very long time. She would be the wife of Aragorn, marry the boldly almost foolishly heroic ranger, and be the Queen of Gondor. Oh, she definitely thought that she could handle that.  
  
King Aragorn and Queen Cordelen enjoyed a long and prosperous rule over the kingdom of Gondor. The people loved them, and they had four wonderful children. She couldn't have asked for a better husband, or a more fulfilling life. Long live Queen C.  
  
End Cordelia's Dream. 


	5. epilog

Author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg 13   
  
main characters: Cordelia, Anya, Buffy and Willow  
  
disclaimer: I own nobody from BtVS, and nobody from Lord of the Rings  
  
distribution: If you want it, ask. I'll probably say yes.  
  
summary: Anya found a spell to allow Buffy, Cordelia & Willow dream themselves into the movie 'Lord of the Rings'. After the dreams, how will they react?  
  
  
  
Anya started breakfast, having woke up rather hungry. The movies last night had been wonderful, with handsome men, dire peril, and lots of action. She wouldn't have minded borrowing one of them for a while herself, but she had the suspicion that Xander would be jealous. Too bad, Gimli looked nice and... solid. And what about Gandalf or Sarumon, they'd had how long to figure things out? Or even one of the pretty elf guys... Yeah, lots of guys that she could dream about.  
  
Buffy was the first one to go into the living room, her eyes almost sad, and a little pout on her face. She kept putting little braids into her still damp hair as she settled cross legged on the floor in a patch of sunlight. Looking at the house, she just sighed.  
  
"We have eggs, and sausage, but the bacon isn't ready yet. Do you have fruit?" Anya glanced at Buffy, wondering if she'd enjoyed her dream. From the way she'd practically drooled over the archer, Anya was pretty sure who Buffy had dreamed about.  
  
Buffy frowned, as if she was trying to remember something from a long time ago. "Fruit? umm... Try the cupboard over the microwave. We had to move it so that... umm, we needed the counter space for something."  
  
Cordelia walked in, her bearing slightly different, her posture straighter, almost regal. "Eggs? Is there toast? Any roast duck... no, there wouldn't be. This is Sunnydale again."  
  
"Well, what's got into you?" Anya smiled a little, noticing the changes in Cordelia. Had she dreamed herself into money and power? Was waking up here a terrible disappointment? The spell had caused some girls to kill themselves rather than continue in their real lives after their delightful dreams. Sometimes, a dream was so much better than the realities of life... Others used it again and again, until they just didn't wake back up. Her personal bet was that Buffy would be the most likely to reuse the spell, but Willow was the most likely to deliberately lose herself in the dream-world. Of course, she'd been wrong before...  
  
"Is that any way to speak to..." Cordelia stopped in the middle of her sentence, as if forcing herself to think. "But I'm not, am I? It wasn't... it seemed so real. And it isn't."  
  
"No, it wasn't real. He's not... I don't have him." Buffy's voice sounded sad, wistful. "Everything was so perfect..."  
  
Anya looked at the unhappy Slayer. Part of her felt pleased that both of them had woke up, had emerged from the temptations of the other lives. The part of her that had wrecked vengeance for centuries was almost disappointed, but they were both strong willed. "Well, you knew that it was a dream before you went to sleep. Dreams always come to an end."  
  
Buffy sighed, picking up an apple. "Maybe I can dream of him again... It was almost like I could still smell the leaves and flowers when I woke up, like it had been real."  
  
"The spell is supposed to have that sort of near reality to it. That's why it's so effective." Would Buffy try it again? Dreams were addictive, that was half the success of drugs over the millenia. If Buffy lost herself in the dreams, or kept using them to see her elf lover, eventually, it would affect her slaying. Eventually, she'd be too distracted, and she would falter att he wrong moment, be distracted at a critical time, and then... One dies, another is chosen. She wasn't quite certain if that would be a good thing or not. Was she Anyanka, who didn't care about Slayers, or Anya, who considered Buffy a sort of friend?  
  
"Isn't a little bit of happiness that doesn't last better than nothing at all?" Willow's voice came from the stairs, sounding oddly melancholy. "I'm guessing that it did work, and Buffy dreamed about her Legolas, and Cordelia dreamed of Aragorn..."  
  
"What about you, Willow? Did you dream about cute elves? Or wait, there was that thing with Tara, maybe it was Arwen? Or Galadriel?" Buffy was smiling at Willow, her eyes almost shining with the hope of details.  
  
Willow offered a faint smile, settling herself at the table. "While Arwen and Galadriel are both entirely fantasizable, no. It wasn't the dream of 'Willow and her harem of elf-chicks'. My dream was... something else. Although I could always dream about those two another time, and Eowyn's more likely to have time for a... umm... never mind. Not the point. My dream... was wonderful, and amazing, and frustrating. With pain and joy, and a happy ending. And while Arwen did look pretty cute in that gown, she was quite taken." Willow sighed, as if trying to clear away bits of her dream. "We've had a taste of fun, a bite of romance and love. Now, we have to go back to keeping the world safe."  
  
Cordelia blinked, leaning towards Anya. "Since when does Willow dream about girls? What happened to Oz, and who's Tara?"  
  
"That's all pretty complicated." Anya smirked just a little, wondering if this would cause something interesting. "Oz cheated on Willow with a skanky she-wolf and left town, Willow spent some time dating another witch named Tara, and they sort of split up after her family came to town and accused Tara of being a demon. They might be getting back together, I'm not sure."  
  
"Oh." Cordelia blinked, looking surprised. "Well, I guess Arwen and Galadriel, or Eowyn are pretty cute, although Eowyn... just... stay away from my cousin... umm... sorry, never mind. Dreams. Eowyn would have no idea how to handle Willow. It was nice though... Queen C, beloved by her people."  
  
"Yeah, they were nice dreams." Willow sighed, her eyes distracted. "But now, it's time to go back to our lives."  
  
Buffy leaned over, looking at Anya as she licked her lips slightly. "Can you write that chant down for me?"  
  
"Of course." Anya nodded, wondering how this would unfold. If there would soon be a new Slayer, or if Buffy would be breaking up with her soldier boy in favor of her dreams. Any way it unfolded, life in Sunnydale was never dull.  
  
end Dreams of the Ring. 


End file.
